Semper Fido
by Ellie White
Summary: A tale of Two Jethros.


**Semper Fido**

(Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just use them like dolls.)

Abby, or Abigail as Ducky and only Ducky was allowed to call her, Sciuto knelt on the floor of her pristinely clean forensic lab, softly stroking Jethro's head in a comforting rhythm. Not Jethro as in her "silver-haired fox" of a boss, but as in the obedient German Shepherd who sat beside her, reveling in the attention she was showing him.

Unfortunately for Jethro and Abby, the evidence was overwhelmingly stacked against him. His days were numbered; he was what Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo would refer to as a "dead dog walking". He was being sentenced to death by lethal injection for the alleged violent attack towards former Petty Officer Kyle Hanson, who was deemed his handler for the Navy's Drug Enforcement Unit. But there was no one way that such an amazing creature was responsible for that Petty Officer's death, she was just so sure of it.

Abby rubbed her hand across a field of tan and sable strands of fur. She had fallen in love with Jethro the moment she laid eyes on him, bleeding in the backseat of the company's deep blue colored Dodge Charger.

"It's a good thing you didn't bleed all over the leather interior," she smirked, remembering that Tony had furiously negotiated with the N.C.I.S. Director on the advantages of having the slightly more expensive features of the SXT package added onto it. Surprisingly, he'd won. Gibbs, who was more concerned about speed than accessories, was just content that it had a Hemi in it.

_Gibbs_, she sighed with a sad smile. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The one and only. The namesake to her new friend who had been unjustly christened as "Butch". She sneered at the name. "Butch" was too…butch. It would be the perfect name for a nice, fat Bulldog, a Great Dane or a Mastiff, but not for the sweetheart she was currently petting. No; like she explained to Gibbs earlier, he was named rightfully so.

Strong, handsome and quiet; those are the exact words she used to describe the canine to her boss and she meant every word. It seemed that they shared a lot of the same quirks and personality traits. Was she the only one who could see that? Had she not been preoccupied by the dog next to her, she knows that she would've blushed with ultimate embarrassment if she'd been given an awkward moment to stop and see how her words had affected him.

Since her first day at N.C.I.S., there was a certain, unexplainable bond that formed between her and Gibbs the moment he dared to attempt to shake hands with her. His rare presence was strangely comforting to her. They had started out in the normal Superior Special Agent/Forensic Scientist relationship where he was only brought to her lab for dropping off evidence and forensic results, but sometimes he seemed to stop by just to ponder the strange and contradicting creature that was holed up in the basement. She always felt when he was there, but she figured if he needed something, he'd voice his request.

As the weeks went by, they settled into a more comfortable, closer routine in which he would have his coffee in one hand, and her preferred energy drink in the other. He justified his kind gesture with excuses, claiming that it was "on sale" and "he'd noticed she was working a lot of overtime in the lab" and it "left her no time to run out to get any", but Abby knew better. She found it odd that he felt the need to cover up his thoughtfulness, and soon his now constant visits with accompanied Caf-Pow!s were disguised as bribery attempts to extracting newly discovered information from her. Not that she minded, of course. It was like a two-for-one special; a highly-addictive caffeinated beverage and a visit from her favorite person in the world on a daily basis, sometimes twice a day.

Half-way into their newly forming friendship, Abby was able to let loose her more physical side. She was a hugger; there was no doubting that. He'd been warned when she had embraced the members of his team, who seemed to have been perfectly fine with her intimate way of showing affection. She was hesitant to hug people when she first met them; afraid they might freak out, but having been around Gibbs for so long, she fell into a sense of security around him. Since he didn't seem to be disturbed to be seen with the almost half his age Goth chick, she decided to cross the personal boundary lines for them both.

One of the mornings that he made his way down to see her, she squealed his name in delight at the sight of him and what he held in his hand and skipped over to take it from him. To his surprise, she threw her long, slender arms around his neck and clamped them together, hugging him tight, making sure he knew that she was grateful. At first he was stunned, shocked into stiffness and unable to move, but he soon fell out of it when she smiled softly at him and he found himself allowing the corner of his mouth to quirk up slightly. Soon, her hugs became more frequent, but they never lost any meaning behind them.

When the rest of the team was with him, she refrained until they left. It wasn't out of embarrassment; it was all about keeping his reputation from being questioned as a softie. He learned to prepare himself for them when he saw them coming, opening his arms so she wouldn't knock the drinks out of his hands and bowing his head to free just a little space up between them when she latched on. Eventually, he found himself pecking her on the cheek and the forehead, thanking her for her time, her effort, and making sure she knew that she was appreciated.

Once he became accustomed to her physical need to hug him and invade his personal space (a space most dared to never attempt to enter and he never let anyone in), they began to subconsciously flirt with one another. Neither one of them really remembered how it started, but the urge to keep it going practically became a necessity. It became a daily challenge, to see who could make the most provocative remark while keeping the atmosphere professional and serious. Their friendship was too platonic for the suggestive words and leering gestures to hold any meaning behind them.

Lately, however, the smallest, microscopic things made her step back and ponder her relationship with Gibbs. When he strode into her lab, before he would speak to her, his voice would soften. When he made his way to stand behind her, he leaned in closer than normal. After she explained things to him, when he had questions or comments to make, the warmth of his breath seemed to find the sensitive spots of her neck, sending chills down her spine. With every case closing detail she revealed to him, she was rewarded with her Caf-Pow! and a peck on the cheek, only now, his lips seemed to draw closer to hers every time, and as they made contact with her skin, they lingered long enough to give the slightest hesitant wonder of what would happen if it hadn't stopped there.

Truth be told, she _didn't want_ it to stop there! She felt as if she and Gibbs had been dancing around each other for years now and he was still just as clueless as ever. Feeling as if her advancements hadn't been obvious enough, she started to kick it up a notch. She leaned back into him when he stood behind her, moved her head slightly when he went to kiss her, she even went as far as signing "I love you" to him, but nothing seemed to rattle him. Did he just…not get it or was he ignoring her? She couldn't tell either way and it was driving her completely insane.

Today, however, was an exception entirely in itself. Abby was determined and stubborn about very few things, but when she made up her mind, there was no changing it. Had it been the 1960's, she would, no doubt, have been picketing in the front row. In fact, that's what today had been precisely like; a protest. She was a solo protester against "the man" (boy, she hated that she had to put Gibbs in the same boat as "the establishment"), but she stood strong and defended her ground, her rights, and she remained a voice for he who could not speak; only bark.

She remained strong against a large portion of the population of the opposed; McGee, Ducky, Gibbs and that nasty woman who was no more than a murderer, of both humans and canines alike. She faced one of her biggest fears; Gibb's wrath, even though she didn't see it often, and she put everything on the line to do so. She honestly had no certainty that Jethro hadn't killed his handler, but something told her that the whole situation seemed way too hinky…

It was her gut; something that she learned from a wise man once who always followed his.

Fortunately, for everyone, she came out victorious in the end and Jethro's life had been spared. But what was going to happen to Jethro now that he'd been cleared of all charges? Would they ship him back to the Drug Enforcement Unit to sniff out drugs like day old cheese? She only wished that they would let her care for him.

She pulled the dog by the neck into a hug and sniffled. "If I can't have the real thing, can I at least have you, Jethro?"

Jethro turned his head towards hers, barked in agreement and licked her cheek until her frown turned into a smile. "Thanks, but being cute and adorable will only make this harder when they make me give you back."

"_After everything you were willing to sacrifice for the mutt, you're just going to give him up that easily?"_

She looked up in shock at his voice to see him leaning in the door frame, with his arms crossed, watching her. "Gibbs! How long have you been standing there?"

He shrugged. "Long enough to hear you surrender."

She sighed in defeat and shook her head. "You're right, Gibbs. Jethr-I mean, Butch," she sneered at the former name, "doesn't belong to N.C.I.S."

He studied her actions before he continued. She was really hung up on this animal. As much trouble as he'd given her, he felt a very strong sense of pride for her sticking to her guns against everyone because she was willing to fight for what she believed in, however misguided her passion may have been.

"No," he shook his head in agreement, "he doesn't belong to us."

He met her gaze before he voiced his next sentence.

"He _should_ belong to you."

Her eyes never left his as she glared at him. "Don't you think I know that? What do you think I've been fighting for all day? He deserves a better home, a better life, a better owner! He's a great dog, and he's not just a dog, Gibbs, he's a veteran!" she said, looking down and saluting him.

Gibbs fought the nagging urge to smile at her strong, yet amusing convictions. "Wrong hand, Abbs."

She glared at him again and switched arms, correctly saluting him this time. Jethro sat up straight and barked, causing her to smile with such joy at something so simple. "See, Gibbs? He's a hero!"

He nodded, unfolding his arms and turned back towards the hall, pushing the button for the lift. Within seconds, he heard its light chime sound and the doors opened.

"He just needs someone to love him," she said loudly, kneeling down to hug him again.

"He already has that," Gibbs replied, stepping into the lift, turning to face her. "Take him home, Abigail."

She glared angrily at him. "Gibbs! What did I tell you about calling me-" as his words hit her, her face fell into a look of surprise as she shot up from the floor and ran the door to her lab, staring at him with wide eyes. "What did you just say?"

He pressed the button for the main floor and smirked at her hopeful expression and reveled in knowing that he was the one making her day, her week, maybe even her year.

"Take him home," he commanded as the doors started to slide closed, "before the base commander changes his mind."

Abby stood before the closed doors of the elevator for a few minutes and replayed what just happened a few times before she realized that he had been serious.

She could keep the dog…

She could keep Jethro!

A high-pitched squeal rose from the depths of her throat and soon she was jumping up and down, throwing herself into a cheerleader-like routine that her grandmother taught her. She paused and looked at Jethro. "I can keep you! You're coming home with me!"

Jethro barked happily and jumped up on Abby and then down again, running in circles a few times in celebration.

Finally calming down a bit, Abby skipped around her lab, shutting down Major Mass Spec. and her other "babies". Then she threw Jethro's old collar away before taking her own spiked collar off of her neck and applying it to Jethro. After attaching the lead she had, which she would replace as soon as possible with one more visually appealing, she and Jethro walked into the lift and ascended to the bullpen.

Stepping out of the lift, he walked over to his desk and started to gather up his things for the night.

A loud sequel sounded from the ventilation system, echoing throughout the building, much like how the noise she called music sometimes carried. He let a genuine smile escape until a familiar female voice sounded from across the room.

"_I take it Abby's pleased with the final decision?"_

"'Pleased' might be an understatement," he smirked, grabbing his coat and joining her on the balcony of the bullpen.

"She was willing to sacrifice a lot for that dog," she said in confused awe, turning off the lights as they got ready to leave. "No one can ever say that Abby Sciuto wasn't loyal."

"Or stubborn," Gibbs added, with a slight shake of his head.

"Or that," Jen agreed with a smile.

Before the turned to walk down the hallway, Abby emerged from below with her trusty new friend in tow behind her. Director Jenny Shepherd and Gibbs stood silently, watching them from the darkness.

"Oh, shoot! It looks like he's already left for the day. Guess we're going to have to thank him and the commander later, boy. C'mon, Jethro!" Abby said, walking towards the exit.

Jen's eye brows shot up in surprise.

"I sleep in a coffin, so you can have the whole bed to yourself…unless you _prefer_ the coffin," she told the dog as the door started to close. "In that case, maybe we can see if Gibbs can build you one!"

Gibbs rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but was closely followed by Jen.

"She renamed the dog?"

"Seems like it," he replied, evasively.

"'Jethro'?"

"Jen?" he replied, smirking.

She shook her head. "She named the dog "Jethro"?"

"Apparently."

"After you?"

"I guess so."

She paused for a moment and then asked, "Why?"

He froze. There was no way he was going to relate what she had said behind her reasoning for naming the dog after him. Sure, he was flattered, but no one else needed to know why.

"Are you blushing?" she asked in awe and amazement as his cheeks darkened slightly.

"Marines don't blush. It's hot in here," he said, referring to the elevator.

"So, why'd she name him after you?"

"Because he's a mean old bastard with a hard stare and a bite worse than his bark," he replied.

She stared at him before shaking her head. He was lying, but she'd never get the truth out of him, so she let it go. "So, why was she seeking out the base commander to thank him?"

He remained silent, feeling more and more comfortable in his own skin. _Is it getting hotter in the lift?_ he wondered.

"You didn't _tell_ her?" she stated, more than asked.

He glanced over to see if her face was schooled in that amusing shocked look she used to get when he thoroughly taken her by surprise. _Yep, there it is. _Upon seeing it, he turned back towards the closed door, waiting for the doors to open to the garage.

"You know she'll find out about it eventually, don't you? Secrets don't stay secrets very long at N.C.I.S."

"Rule Four," he said as they stepped out into the parking garage.

"Always be specific when you lie?"

"That's Rule Seven," he said, walking to his car.

"I always get those mixed up."

"The best way to keep a secret? Keep it to yourself."

"And the second best?" she asked, knowing there was more to it.

"Doesn't apply here," he said, stopping in front of the Charger.

Jen put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You did good, Agent Gibbs." After a glare from him, she walked over to her own car and got in.

Pulling out of his space, his car blocked the directors until he moved it.

"Hey!" she hollered to him.

Curious, he rolled down his passenger side window and waited for her to speak again.

"Are you seriously going to make her dog a coffin?"

He chuckled and shook his head, throwing the car into drive and speeding out of the garage.


End file.
